


Accounted For

by herbailiwick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexuality, Demisexuality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 14:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11420163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: For Liron_aria.Emotional drabble prompt”worthless”, and for Queer!Sam week (2014) day 5:HeadcanonsAsexual!Bobby, demisexual!Sam, both biromantic. (Started June 26th, 2014.) Also for EruthiawenLuin.(Pleaselet me know if any of you reading this find any part of this story problematic or acephobic!)





	Accounted For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EruthiawenLuin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EruthiawenLuin/gifts), [Liron_aria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liron_aria/gifts).



Bobby had grown up judging reactions: his father's reactions, his mother's reactions, and after he'd killed his dad and his mom had eventually given up trying to love him without the ring of bitterness around her heart, he'd been judging the reactions of the rest of the people around him (of which there weren't very many).

Karen was not his father, and was not her own father, so, for all intents and purposes, Karen was perfect. It kind of made Bobby perfect too, then, though he always feared he'd find some way to transform bit by bit into the man he would never stop being afraid of becoming, even up to the day that he died.

He'd never had many friends growing up. He figured when he did get told about someone's encounter with a stolen skin mag or about a grope behind a greenhouse, his friends were just being reckless, or else were trying to prove something he didn’t understand their need to prove. Or else, as his mom might have said, they were bad kids who were gonna be punished some way or another.

Sex, to Bobby, seemed like something adults did and were discreet about, but that put it in a category that included financial strategizing and proper dental hygiene. Karen didn't have any hangups talking about sex. In a way, it was refreshing, because he'd never really talked to anyone about it. Her freedom about it made it feel easier to even consider the subject. Though, in another way, it was frightening, and more frightening bit by bit, because she liked to talk about it more than he thought they maybe should. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, and all that.

It didn't occur to him that maybe she thought it  _had been_  broke until after she was gone, and well after the hole in him had numbed enough for him to even consider accepting a date. Karen was Bobby's first, but Bobby was not Karen's first, and there had never been anything wrong with that. He’d felt no need to defend the honor of either of them.

After Karen, his love life was a weird, rocky journey he took slowly most of the time, complete with tentative dates and awkward sex, with nice moments and good sensations occurring, but hard to predict. He discovered, upon some trial and error, that there was no apparent difference between how he felt about sex with a woman and how he felt about sex with a man, which was interesting, but altogether not too helpful either.

Mostly, he focused on Rufus and on the other hunters he started to meet, some he would have died for, and some he was often tempted to kill, like one John Winchester. Rufus never gave him a hard time. Any hunter who tried, including John, he tried to avoid or prove wrong.

***

Sam had grown up with a strong appreciation for the concept of getting to know someone before having sex with them. It wasn’t the way his father or brother preferred things, but he was going to make sure that his path strayed from theirs as much as he wanted it to. 

He never found anyone he was around long enough until college, no matter how Dean tried to push, and even, on occasion, John did too.

Tyson Brady was Sam's first, in a couple ways. It took weeks of study sessions. It took a dozen pizza and movie nights. Mostly, it took late night philosophy and Brady making Sam a painting of a road surrounded by buildings that looked like burgers and whisky bottles and knives because of drunken stories he'd told him that he shouldn't have told him.

It was so different from the fleeting weeks and solitary months he'd gotten to spend near people while they'd been on the road. That sea of pretty faces with pretty roots like Sam had never known, a mass, a jumble, and something Sam could only press up against like a pane of glass, not pass through and live inside.

He never actually  _wants_  to have sex until he's special to Tyson Brady. He has the strange thought that he'd like to hear what Dean would think, what Dad would think, hearing that. He never finds out because they don't want anything to do with him, but Brady does.

He thinks he understands what the term "sexually active" means, now. It's like a switch, or something. He's found Brady, and he's found sex, somehow. And that's kind of cool.

When Brady is cold, when Brady is off wooing  _other people_  and Sam's alone and teary-eyed and they're over, when Sam starts to spend more time with Brady's friend Jess, he figures he's still sexually active.

When he asks if they can take it slower, she doesn't even give him a hard time. She soaks up the cuddles. She tells him he's a gentleman when that's all they do. He feels like he has finally arrived, like he has finally become a real, live human being, someone with an actual place to fit into that makes sense, unlike back on the road with all the contradictions and the shifting goals.

Everything feels beautiful with Jess because she makes it possible for him to fit her life. Even when he admits he and Brady had sex, she doesn't take it personally.

"Maybe he's just more your type," she suggests, and he can tell she’s trying to help.

"Well, not anymore," he jokes. He couldn't  _be_  more sure of this: Brady kind of creeps him out now. He gets bad vibes. He knows she means maybe he’s more into guys, but, honestly, not really. He just doesn’t want her the same way yet.

That takes more time. He ignores a joke from Katelyn about how it's a crime he's not putting out yet, by the looks of him. She's harmless, and in a weird way he finds her comment flattering. But he does also find out that a lot of couples like to have sex _a lot_ , and that's weird to him. He thinks it's weird to Jess that it's weird to him, but she never asks for anything he doesn't put on the table.

Maybe Dean wasn't as weirdly sexual and creepy as Sam had thought? 

Or, maybe, as a completely unrelated issue, he was.

Jess is safety, but not in a boring way. In the most exciting way possible because he's never really been  _safe_  before. Everything about it is new and fits. She loves him, sex or no sex. She just loves him as a whole package, and respects his values and his ideas.

And then, she’s gone.

When she dies, he returns to a lack of safety, a lack of respect, and even a lack of agency. Dean toes the line of all his boundaries and presses casual sex on him like what's good for the goose is good for the gander, but trying to find satisfying casual sex is a wild goose chase: It's silly and exhausting, and it’s likely to make him hate everything about geese. He kisses, and he wishes he could stay longer, but he can't give himself that hope of a permanent intimacy.

It’s Bobby's familiar face, Bobby's familiar house, giving him something he hadn't felt in so long, even after a demon burst in and they had to kill a girl, that allows him to feel safe again. Even after they find John, even after the car is towed, even after John dies and Dean starts to work on the car, Sam still feels safe on some strange level.

***

They connected over the Key of Solomon book when they first reunited, and then they connected over the Impala. Now they're connecting over, of all things, their abusive fathers.

It's something Dean doesn't like to acknowledge often, but Bobby has had John's number since pretty much forever, and Sam appreciates the confirmation of the pain he’s known. He appreciates a lot of other things about Bobby. He's cute, for one, with a sweet smile and oddly pretty hands. He's nice. He’s always made sure no one forgets about Sam. He reminds Sam that hunters can be as gentle as they want to be. As gentle as Sam wants to be.

He'd never really thought of Bobby in a romantic way until the day they killed Meg Masters, but it was hard not to see the possibility after that. Every glance felt like warm chemistry and an inside joke, like he'd probably be blushing if he were face to face with a stranger and not one of the most stable pieces of his life from as far back as he could remember.

Bobby is as reliable as the Impala. Sam honestly doesn't have any question that Bobby’s feeling it too. Bobby was never good at hiding that, or at hiding a lot of things, especially from Sam.

Over the phone, Sam unloads his fears about his visions, the road he and Dean are on a sea of pitch black lit with bright yellow, and at first Bobby doesn't know what to say. When he finally says it's gonna be okay, Sam almost believes it. Sam says he wants to see Bobby again soon. He says he wants to see him more often. Bobby doesn't reply, not directly. He changes the subject. But, he appreciates it. They get each other.

Everything, honestly, really is kind of okay.

***

The demon in that poor girl comes back. Everything's bloody, and mostly what he's thinking, there on the ground with his face smarting from Dean's punch, is that at least he's at the place where he's safest. His arm hurts too, but mostly it's his chest, full of pain that wasn't caused by anything but the horrible knowledge of what happened, of what his hands were forced to do.

He was almost forced to watch as Meg the demon assaulted Jo. He had certainly found Jo attractive, but he had not been interested in sex, and he had certainly not been interested in Meg's idea of a good time.

Some part of him is glad that he hadn't been interested in her sexually in the first place, because that'd be just one more thing to feel weird about, right? One more place between Meg the demon and himself inside of him that would have burned him after she was gone, down in Hell again.

Bobby hands him a protective charm, and he can't help but think that it's not even the first piece of jewelry he's gotten from the guy. Add that to the book from a few months before, and Sam feels more important than he should probably feel. This is probably bad.

Oh fucking well! It wasn’t like he’d never felt bad about his urges before.

***

Unsure where his quest for Whatever is even leading him, Sam tries to impress Bobby the whole time they work the Trickster case. He doesn't think it works, really, but that's okay, because, in the end, Bobby saves Sam's life after he’s stabbed by Jake. That's what Dean says in his lie anyway, and Sam actually buys it. Until he finds out what really happened. 

He smiles then, and puts his hand on Bobby's shoulder, subconsciously tries to get closer while they're planning, grins at Bobby's undeniable genius. When the truth comes out, he feels stupid for believing that anyone could actually patch up a wound like that, even Bobby, but it's Bobby, so he gives himself a pass.

He knows Bobby wants him to notice the suit he's wearing on their next case, which is good because Sam finds noticing it easy. He likes that Bobby apparently shows off for him. He likes that Bobby remembers what lore he's looking into about Dean. He likes that he's not facing Dean's mortality alone.

***

By some miracle, considering how little control he has over where they decide to go, sometime between the defeat of the Seven Deadly Sins and Dean's reunion with Gumby Girl Lisa Braeden, Sam convinces Dean to let them spend a few days at Bobby's. He wouldn't have asked normally, but the thought of Dean dying freaks him out. He figures he can thumb through some of Bobby's books, too, if they have any alone time.

"I feel so worthless," he tells Bobby over a sip from the tumbler Bobby handed him.

"It's not your fault, you know," is all Bobby says. He fields a few more calls as Sam sits and watches him at work. He's such a good liar, and he's lying for the good of people trying to do the right thing, and Sam is kind of a sucker for that.

"It's a little bit my fault," Sam points out. "Jake stabbed me."

"I know," Bobby says. There's a bitterness in the tone he doesn't usually have. "I saw it." It strikes Sam that Bobby isn't mad at him. He's mad at Jake. Dead Jake, the Jake Sam shot to death.

Sam takes another sip. He sets the glass down on the desk after pushing a book out of the way.

Dean ran off again as soon as they parked. "I gotta fuck my brains out while I still can," he'd said solemnly, the absurdity of the tone making Sam laugh even as his brow started to furrow and threatened not to stop.

"I wish I could be like Dean, sometimes," Sam says to Bobby. "I wish I could just  _not care_. Burger? Sounds great. Casual sex? Okay."

"I like a good burger," Bobby teases, "but, yeah. I know what you mean."

"Um." Sam runs his finger along the rim of the tumbler and avoids looking at Bobby at all. "How _do_ you feel about casual sex?"

"Why?” Bobby huffed out in amusement. “You comin' onto me?"

Sam looks up, and Bobby's narrowing his eyes all of a sudden. Sam cuts him off before he can ask more seriously.

"Honsetly? No. I was asking how you feel about casual sex. I don't like it,” Sam shared.

"Well, I don't like it either." 

Bobby seems to relax, though he's still watchful, sharp. Sam relaxes too. Hmm. He toasts Bobby with his glass.

"I don't think I'd say no," he says shyly to the man.

"I can take you to the bar, then," Bobby points out, lip quirking. “They got plentya that there.”

"No!” Sam says, and Bobby frowns at him for it. “No,” he says more quietly. “Uh.  _Casual_ sex is still a no. I meant." He sighs out a breath, chews at the inside of his cheek. "Bobby, I don't think I'd say no to us, like, the two of us. You know?"

Bobby turns toward the phone that suddenly starts ringing. He glances at Sam, uses the call as an opportunity to stall his response even though they both know that’s exactly what he’s doing.

"Bobby," Sam reminds when the phone's back on the hook. Bobby's back on the hook too.

"Yes," says Bobby. "Alright? I _like_ you. Which probably makes me a bad person, but, I already got plenty of black marks on my soul.”. His eyes hold so much purpose. Maybe too much.

One text to Dean proves he's alive and not planning to come home any time soon. Sam pockets his cell phone readily. 

They have the whole world to themselves.

Bobby takes Sam to a diner the Winchesters got to go to a few times while they were growing up, but neither of them are able to bring up the fact it’s a date. Sam’s last real date was Sarah, and he's pretty sure he'll never see her again. He's gonna lose Bobby after this, just like he loses everyone else. And, for what? 

His eyes blur as he looks at the menu, but he already knows what he wants.

They discuss life, from when Sam manages to keep the tears at bay to when they leave a big tip. They talk about Dean, and about Bobby's neighbors. They talk about that sheriff who hates him, and about Dean wanting to hit all the stops on a final tour soon.

They fit together on the couch.  _Jeopardy_ 's on, and Bobby's freakishly good at it, murmuring answers in a nonchalant manner. There's no weirdness when Bobby opts to put an arm around him. Bobby Singer has smelled like Old Spice since Sam knew what it was really called. He smells a little like sweat, too, but it's not bad. He's really warm, but not so warm that Sam wants to move away. 

Sometimes, he turns to catch Sam's gaze, holding it. He just sort of looks at him, capturing the moment, but it's not weird, really, it's just...natural.

Sam kisses him during the final jeopardy, and it's a nice feeling. The song counts down to Bobby’s response to the gesture, which is to return it, gently.

A few hours later, they figure they should check on Dean again. He gets mad about them calling, which is understandable, but it's better safe than sorry because his recklessness has evolved into a higher life form since he made his deal.

***

The bed is creaky. It seems like it shouldn't feel so natural, lying next to each other like Bobby didn't make him grilled cheese when he was 5.

"Is this okay?" Sam asks, resting a hand on Bobby's chest through his shirt. He's lying on his side next to Bobby, who's on his back. At Bobby's nod, Sam touches his chest and stomach, his sides, careful, ready to recognize any sign of discomfort. He's mapping Bobby out more than trying to entice him or anything like that, and it's that revelation more than anything else that gets him tugged close for a few more lazy kisses.

"Do you want to, um?" Sam asks. The silence hangs heavy, undisturbed. "Do...more?" he finally adds.

Bobby doesn't necessarily look like he wants to, but he does scoot back against the pillows in order to sit up. “I guess."

Sam leans in for another soft kiss. "If you don’t want to, don't worry about it," he says, and settles next to Bobby like he had when they'd been watching _Jeopardy_.

The phone next to the bed rings, and Bobby takes the call with a sigh. "No, you can't do that," he explains. "Yeah, but that doesn't work with a Wendigo. How do I  _know?_ It's just the lore."

Sam finds Bobby’s voice soothing, even when he’s annoyed with whoever’s calling. Sam lets his eyes close.

"I told that man he needs his wife to come on hunts with him. She's definitely his better half," Bobby shares with a little huffing sigh. The call is over.

"So. Big spoon or little spoon?" Sam teases idly, but he knows how things are gonna go as they slide back down onto the bed, their heads on the pillows. They turn toward the nightstand and the silent phone on its receiver, Sam curling his arm around Bobby.

"I can't tell if I want that for us, you know?" Sam says honestly.

"Marriage? What the hell?" Bobby asks with a sweet, lazy incredulity.

"Uh, no," Sam laughs. "Sex."

"Oh," Bobby says. "What?! Sam!" .

"What, I talk about marriage, that's normal, but I say maybe we shouldn't screw and that's a problem?"

"You tell  _me_ ," Bobby says, shifting to turn and look at Sam. "You're making no sense to me."

"Why not?" Sam frowns.

"You’re John’s son, a 'red-blooded male'."

"So?"

"So...so."

Sam raises a brow, and they stare at each other. "Are you saying that means I wanna screw by default? Because, seriously, until people started saying that in college, I just thought Dean was a hypersexual freak."

Bobby blinks at him.

"My boyfriend in college, Brady? That was the first time I ever wanted someone. It took a while. Same thing with Jess. It took a while. I don't understand one-night stands. Well," he amends. "I think I do! I just don't think they seem worth it.”

Bobby’s too silent.

“So, what’s your story?” Sam asks.

" _Me?_ You wanna know if  _I_  find one-night stands worth it?" He's full-on incredulous now, but quiet about it. "Have you seen me?”

“I’m seeing you right now, in, like, more ways than one.”

“I'm not interested, no. I’m a cranky drunk in a house full of guns, so, yeah, not exactly a 'prize'. That's not really why, though, I mean, I think, even if I _was_...."

"You _are so_  a prize,” Sam says, and they just kind of stare at each other again, Bobby is resting in front of Sam, curled against him like before. Sam lets his hand return to where it was, holding Bobby, protecting him from the way they don’t fit in and appreciating how they fit at the same time. He feels like he's one of the very few people Bobby will unquestioningly allow to protect him. It's a nice feeling. 

"Thanks," Bobby admits. "I know you wouldn't just say that."

"You’re handsome, to me," Sam offers. "I think to a lot of people, actually. And you're not as cranky as you think you are." Bobby reaches back and smacks Sam lightly on the hip to say, "Am so."

"You're gonna want to have sex with me, Sam," Bobby says, following a patch of silence. After he says it, he tenses against Sam. "Fuck. Well, you know what I mean. That sounded arrogant."  


"It didn't," Sam swears. "I actually...agree with you. You've always made me feel like knowing you, being around you, will always be worth it."

"Not sexually," Bobby insists.

"Okay," Sam says with a shrug Bobby can feel all around him. He doesn’t understand, but he’s listening.

"Even with Karen, it wasn't worth it, to her. I mean, she's  _sweet_. As sweet as  _you_. Good, to the last bit of her. But I know she didn't feel wanted, or pretty." He shifts so he can look at Sam again. "She was  _beautiful_ ," he says fiercely.

"I remember the pictures," Sam confirms. "Really pretty."

Bobby nods once. "It made her feel like there was something wrong with her. I'm telling you, Sam, that there was nothing wrong with her. I may have thought  _too_ much of her at times. But that ain't her fault. We had problems. I just didn't want...."

"Sex?" Sam asks softly.

"Kids," Bobby explains. "I didn't want kids. She thought that was why I was shy. It ain't why."

Sam curls his arm around Bobby again,

"Now, you're more...typical. You wanted to have sex with your schoolmates, with Brady and Jess."

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "After a few months."

"Time was, that was the way of things anyway, socially," Bobby points out. He shifts away a little, turning back toward Sam. "But, this ain't 'time was', Plus, college is full of people full of hormones."

"That's true," Sam agrees, arm feeling empty, body feeling too cool. He watches Bobby. "I had a problem with sexual desire  _before_  my, uh. Recent history with it, though. I didn't...I didn't think it was for me, at all. It might just...it might just not be for you."

Bobby is so still then, thinking it over. "Well, how's this gonna work, then?"

"We won't do anything you don't want to do," Sam says.

"That ain't even really the problem. It's like...." He shifts, rests on his elbow. "It's like...I don't mind it every once in a while, because my partner likes it. But, same time, I don't like to pretend that I care about it more than I do, you know? Intimacy needs honesty."

"I think that makes sense," Sam says. "I think even if I didn't kind of know what it's like to think about sex like that, and I think in part I do, I'd still be able to get what you're saying."

Bobby pauses, considerate, when Sam says he thinks he'd understand anyway. "I tend to believe you. But...I still think I'll make you feel worthless, like I did for Karen."

"Maybe," Sam admits.

Bobby closes off slightly, and Sam sees it plain as day. "Then again," Sam says, and he and Bobby have another quiet standoff. "As nice as she was? Maybe your...values...just didn't fit," Sam offers.

Finally, Bobby shrugs. "Maybe," he admits.

“Will you come back over here?” Sam asks. “I really want to be close to you.”  


Bobby sighs out a breath. “Yeah,” he says, scooching back toward Sam so he can find himself in that relaxing embrace. “I like close,” he agrees with a nod. “I like close a lot.”

Sam gives him a little squeeze, offering a soft sigh of contentment. “We fit,” he points out, tone soft, a little sleepy.

And, the thing is? Maybe they could make it work with someone who feels more like Dean and John, or even just more like Karen. But they fit so well together just as things are.


End file.
